Chapter 5 - Uninvited Guest
The storm had broken sometime after midnight, leaving the city slick and sharp under the streetlights. Raven sat at her kitchen table, laptop open, crime scene photos fanned beside it like a grim tarot spread. She was tracking patterns—angles of the staging, the progression of the sins, but every road seemed to loop back to Elijah Cross.
She’d just started building a timeline when the buzzer rang. At first she ignored it; no one she wanted to see ever showed up without warning. But it came again—three short bursts. Sharp. Impatient.
When she opened the door, a tall man with a runner’s frame and watchful eyes stood there. Dark hair cut close, leather jacket still damp from the rain. He had a presence that filled the hall, though his expression was pure caution.
“Raven Blaire?”
She leaned on the doorframe. “Who’s asking?”
“Leo Maddox.” His voice carried an edge, like he’d already decided not to like her. “Evelyn’s brother.”
Raven’s mind sharpened instantly. Evelyn Maddox—Elijah’s assistant, discreet, efficient, fiercely loyal. The woman who hovered at the edges of every scene Elijah occupied.
“Evelyn’s not here,” Raven said.
“I know. I’m here for you.”
That earned him a raised brow. “Why?”
“Because you’re working with Elijah Cross,” Leo said, stepping into her space without waiting for an invite. “And I’m here to tell you you shouldn’t be.”
Raven shut the door behind him, more to keep control of the conversation than to agree. “You’ll have to do better than vague warnings.”
He glanced around her apartment, cataloguing details like someone used to noticing small things. “My sister doesn’t talk much about him, but I know enough. Elijah’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“The kind that doesn’t leave evidence.”
Raven crossed her arms. “Do you have proof?”
“I have instincts,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And I’ve learned not to ignore them. The last time Evelyn got close to one of his ‘projects,’ she ended up in the hospital.”
Raven caught the flicker in his expression—fear, quickly masked. “What happened?”
“That’s her story to tell,” Leo said. “But I’ll say this, Elijah doesn’t just attract trouble. He creates it.”
She studied him. His posture was defensive, but his eyes were clear, this wasn’t a man spinning stories for fun. “You came all the way here in the middle of the night just to warn me?”
“No,” Leo said. “I came because Evelyn’s scared. She thinks whatever’s happening now is connected to the past. And she thinks you might be next.”
The words slid under her skin like ice. She wanted to brush them off, but Zara’s photo from the envelope flashed in her mind.
“I’m already in it,” she said.
“Then get out.”
Before she could answer, her phone buzzed on the table. Unknown number. She picked up.
A low, distorted voice crackled through the line: “Three sins down soon, Ms. Blaire. Do try to keep up.”
Then the call dropped.
She kept her voice even as she set the phone down. “I think your timing’s interesting, Mr. Maddox.”
Leo frowned. “That wasn’t me.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Twenty minutes later, they were both in her car, heading toward the scene the voice had hinted at. Micah had texted the address—an abandoned opera house in the old district. Raven drove fast, tires hissing over wet asphalt.
Leo watched her hands on the wheel. “You’re not scared.”
“I don’t have time to be scared.”
“Maybe you should make time,” he muttered.
The opera house loomed ahead, its facade cracked and shadowed. Police tape fluttered at the entrance, and the muffled echo of voices carried from inside. Micah met them at the door, eyes flicking to Leo.
“Friend of yours?”
“No,” Raven said. “Evelyn’s brother.”
Micah grunted. “Great. More company.”
Inside, the grand stage was bathed in harsh floodlights. At its center sat a man in a throne-like chair, his head tilted back, throat slashed clean. His suit was emerald green, his tie perfectly knotted. Across the marble floor in front of him, painted in deep, deliberate strokes, was a single word: Greed.
Raven moved closer, scanning the scene. The victim’s hands were clasped around a small gold reliquary. Inside, under glass, lay a single blood-red petal. A rose petal.
Micah’s voice was grim. “Found it exactly like this. No signs of forced entry.”
Leo stepped up beside Raven, his gaze narrowing. “This isn’t random. Whoever did this wanted an audience.”
Raven crouched to eye level with the reliquary. Something about the petal tugged at her memory—Zara’s funeral, the roses on her coffin. A detail so personal it felt like a finger pressing on an old wound.
She straightened, aware of Leo watching her. “You said Evelyn thinks this is connected to the past. What did she mean?”
He hesitated. “When we were kids, there was a group. Not exactly a club—more like… a circle. They called themselves The Verse. Elijah was part of it.”
Her pulse spiked. “The Crimson Verse.”
“You’ve heard of it,” Leo said, his tone unreadable.
Before she could answer, Micah called from the stage. “Raven—over here.”
At the base of the throne, hidden just beneath the victim’s shoe, lay another envelope. Her name was written on it in the same block letters as before. She opened it, feeling Leo’s eyes on her. Inside was a card bearing a single phrase:
“Your hands will be red before this ends.”
She folded the card slowly, slipping it into her coat. When she looked up, Elijah Cross stood at the far edge of the stage, framed in the doorway. No security detail this time just him, watching.
And in that moment, Raven knew two things:
The killer wanted her tangled in this web.
And Elijah Cross had no intention of letting her go.